The Waste Land for Dummies

The Waste Land (For Dummies)

I. The Burial of Sylvia Plath

February—the coldest of months
London frozen—in a snow storm
Ariel and Caliban—freezing to death
Ted’s dull root—rotting in the cold
No love was left—in their marriage
Yeats was surprised—by it all
Sylvia in his kitchen—writing poetry!!!
There in the stairwell—so still
In front of—Trevor Thomas
Who lived—downstairs from
Plath there—on Fitzroy Road
He an artist—she a poet…
She read at night—by candlelight
She wrote at dawn—in the kitchen
Ariel spoke—and she listened
Big Daddy—who she once loved
His Root & Branches—Arms & Legs
Once was Gold—now just Garbage
She can’t say—only guess
A heap of broken—beating hearts
A Waste Land—of lost hopes
Dead trees—dying Court Green
And the ice—no running water
Under the Shadow—only Shades
She consults—Tarot & Ouija Board
She wants to know—something new
No longer—a smart Smith Girl
A Cambridge poet—she is now